Joseph Smith reached the end of the hallway and turned the light off. He looked back and was, unfortunately, reminded that his windows had been bricked up.
Why does the darkness make everything so creepy? he thought, and why am I unable to forget that horrendous event? “But he didn’t need to ask that. He already knew that that memory would haunt him for the rest of his life. How could he forget? How could any of them forget the tragic incident that had happened? Did he really think he could forget the cave filled ankle deep with blood? Or the limbs and organs scattered around the room? Or the crying and pleading of the next victim? Or, possibly worst of all, the insane laugh of the being that had caused so much pain? Of course not, these images would follow him to his grave. And that laugh, that sinister laugh that seemed to pierce his very soul, would haunt his dreams till he drew his final breathe.”
A new question now lingered in his mind: Can I stand this for that long? Although he was extremely successful, he was still very young. He had finished school in half the normal time. He had become a world famous scientist before most his age even had their first job. He was now the eighth wealthiest person on the planet, and yet he was barely at the halfway point of his expected life.
He looked at a sledge hammer lying on the floor by the door. It was the last weapon in his house; the rest had been taken for ‘his protection.’ He picked up the hammer, weighing it in his hands.
This could put a nice dent in someone’s skull, he thought. “Or possibly even destroy a brick wall,” he thought out loud as he looked at what was once his window.
He lined up his shot with a couple practice swings before putting all his weight into it. He had overestimated the force required to break through, and was forced to release the hammer in order to grasp the wall to stop from going through the window himself. He watched as the hammer fell into the abyss of darkness. Despite that there was a full moon tonight, he couldn’t see much more than 10 feet down, so the hammer disappeared fairly quickly. He heard the thud of it hitting the ground several seconds later.
Coming to his senses, he quickly spun around, listening carefully, hoping the commotion had not awoken Paul Johnson. Paul’s parents had been victims of that terrible monster. Joe had felt bad for Paul and agreed to accept him as his foster child, and became his only family. Paul was a heavy sleeper thought, so he probably didn’t even hear any of it. That’s when he heard it, the sinister laugh. It seemed to surround him, come from every direction. Than just as quickly as it started, it stopped, replaced by the sound of his own heart pounding. He strained to hear something to help him figure out where that monster was. An eternity seemed to pass before he heard the creek of the top step. The footsteps began to move towards his room, slowly but steadily. Joe started to panic, realizing his only means of defense had fallen through his window. I can’t stand up to him, he thought. He’s going to torture me, slowly kill me. Then I’ll be nothing more than his next meal. He looked at the window and made his final decision. I will NEVER die by the hand of this monster, he thought as he leapt through his window.
As he fell towards the ground h heard Paul’s voice cry out. He had never been in danger; the person walking toward him was only his foster child. He looked toward the ground, toward his impending doom, and saw a shadow move silently. He didn’t need to see a face to know who it was, he knew by the silhouette that that monster had been watching the whole time. And the last sound he heard before he died was the sinister laughter echoing through the night.